


trial and error

by motorboats



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, I wrote this for me but you can read it too, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Spanking (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 00:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30013071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motorboats/pseuds/motorboats
Summary: Crow winds up caught in the crossfire of Osiris and Saladin's disagreement.
Relationships: The Crow & Osiris (Destiny)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	trial and error

**Author's Note:**

> this started as a joke conversation and originally ended as 1.2k words after reading the datamined content for the new season. that new content has dropped, so i reread and went to edit and 🤡🤡🤡 instead added another 1000 words because sometimes friday nights are just like that. i'm sure tomorrow morning i'm going to come back and edit and rinse/repeat. 
> 
> theoretically takes place in the same nebulous universe as the other stuff but stands on its own it's Not That Deep.

This is not the first time Crow has awoken knowing that he’s going to be in trouble, but waking up knowing he’s in trouble is significantly less terrifying these days. If someone’s going to take out their displeasure, they’ll do it on him, never on Glint. The certainty of this is its own form of relief; he can weather the guardians’ potential displeasure easily and Glint will be safe. Besides, guardians are never inventive with their punishment. 

He pisses someone off, they try to kill him. Most of the time, they succeed, and Crow comes to with a gasping breath, hand fitting around Glint’s anxiously twisting shell. Sometimes, they fail, and Crow is endlessly grateful for Saint’s gift of a bow and the boots that grant additional speed. It’s simple. It’s not _fun_ but he knows how to manage this series of events from start to finish which makes it easier. 

The Vanguard is another situation altogether. 

Ikora is perhaps the easiest to speak to the few times he’s had the pleasure. After every meeting, he gets the distinct feeling that she could crush him down into nothing but void dust if she really wanted to. She doesn’t, so he figures he’s doing alright enough with her. 

Osiris, it’s impossible to tell if his short temper and shorter words are because of the stress he’s under with the research, advising Zavala, trying to combat the Cabal or any other number of potential stressors if not all of them. For the most part, Crow’s always certain when Osiris is disappointed in him because he makes no illusions about it. 

Zavala doesn’t _know_ he exists, not really, which just leaves Saladin. Saladin, who at this point Crow is rather certain would strangle him if given the chance and that’s _without_ knowing who and what he is. Saladin, who had ordered him to take out retreating Fallen and Cabal; Crow had refused and called it cowardly. The guardian had heard it. The rest of the fireteam heard it. _Osiris_ heard it. 

He was _right_ , though, not Saladin. The man might be a war hero in his own right and Crow would have to work with him, but it was a two-way street, right? Saladin would have to work with him, too, which meant at least _trying_ to, theoretically, even if not in practice. Gunning down the enemy, while they were retreating, wasn’t part of job.

“So, were you just going to stare at the ceiling until your meeting?” Glint blips into sight, iris blinking a few inches away from Crow’s nose. “You can if you would like. If you went in your pajamas, you would need to get out of bed in twenty-three minutes to arrive at the Temple on time.” 

“I’m not going to.” The temptation is there, though. Crow doesn’t move or specify, arm tossed over his face. 

“...Not going to go to the meeting, or,” Glint’s shell twists, his tone going from gently teasing to something softer. “It’s going to be okay. Osiris wouldn’t let him remove you, you’re too important. And even if he did, we could still be useful out there.” 

Crow closes his eyes and tosses both arms around Glint, tugging him in close despite the warning hum as he’s bundled in against his chest. “We could. I’m not worried about that, though. He said he was going to tell Osiris to come too. Said it was his _duty_ , because he’d been the one who vouched for me. Cited an obscure Iron Lord law, about responsibility and sponsorship.” 

“But you’re not an— hold on a second.” 

Glint blinks out of his arms and Crow’s left hugging himself until he drops them, flattening his hands against the warmth of sheets. Above him, Glint hovers, iris flickering, the low hum intensifying. Crow eyes the doorway and then the clock, and tugs the covers back up closer around his shoulders. Saladin won’t ever know he took as long as humanly possible to wait to get ready, but it’s a small pettiness that _he_ knows and that’s enough.

“It. Oh.” Glint’s iris blinks again, slower this time and Crow lowers the blankets, frowning at him. 

“Oh.” he repeats. 

“Yes, oh.” Glint bobs back and forth in a lazy crescent as he processes whatever data he’s getting and then focuses back on Crow. “Well.” 

“I’m going back to sleep if you don’t tell me what this is,” Crow threatens, no teeth behind it with under an hour left to get moving.

“It— it’s a relic, really. Iron Lords had to have some method to settle their disputes.” 

“ _Glint._ ” 

“ _Technically_ , you offended Lord Saladin,” Glint continues over the sound of Crow’s snort. “And _technically_ according to old Iron Lord laws the Vanguard adopted to settle disputes, Osiris is the one who vouched for you. So he has to deliver the punishment.” 

Crow, very aware Glint’s basically just pleased at learning this new thing and the confirmation that Osiris would be the one doling it out, tries very hard not to consider the multitude of options that his mind presents him with. “What _kind_ of punishment, though! Is he going to put me on house arrest? Kill me?” 

“No, they don’t _really_ specify? It’s so old it hasn’t been used in decades. _An appropriate measure of punishment comparable to the slight suffered by the injured party._ ” Glint’s iris narrows as he quotes, some of the cheerfulness at learning something new fading out of him as he considers. It was one thing when it was the unlikeliness of Osiris’ fury being turned onto Crow, but _appropriate measure of punishment_ sounded far too close to the web of words Spider would weave when he was obscuring something he didn’t want to say straight. “You shouldn’t be _punished_ for telling the truth.”

 _Osiris wouldn’t_ , wants to come to his lips but it catches behind his teeth and he bites it back down. 

Osiris would. 

Did. 

The unfairness of the argument over Zavala still burned, even if he’d pushed too hard against Osiris in return. Maybe the reason Osiris’d agreed was he _wanted_ Saladin to— 

“Crow, you don’t have to go,” Glint flickers back into place against Crow’s chest between him and the blanket, all seriousness, the teasing tone from earlier gone. “We can talk to Osiris, or Ms. Ikora, or the Guardian—” 

“No.” The anxiety he’s faced with is more acute than this morning but still less than with Spider. Sharper, rawer, maybe, because it feels a little like a failure and the game _wasn’t_ rigged for once. Crow doesn’t want to ruin this, doesn’t want to have to leave, but what’s the alternative? Making Osiris take the blame for something he did and have to leave? Again? He won’t do that, not to him, to the City, to _Saint._ “No, I can accept whatever it is.” 

  
  


* * *

“This is unacceptable,” Osiris declares, lip curled in disdain after Saladin explains why he’s been brought here. “The Vanguard are not beholden to Iron Lord law and have not been for decades. _Crow_ is a _freelance_ Lightbearer. _Not_ a member of the official Vanguard.” 

It’s true, technically, but he could do without the daily reminders at this point, especially since all of this seems to be caused because he’s _not_ an official member of the city. 

“The law applies either way.” Saladin’s immovable, staring Osiris down without flinching, perhaps the one thing Crow can admire about him right now. “Unless you would rather kill him. Or bring him to Zavala.” 

Crow speaks before Osiris gets a chance. “It’s fine.” 

Glint shivers against their connection like he wants to pop out and argue; Crow tugs lightly at the Light between them and keeps him back, just in case. “I said it’s fine.” 

“The last option, is, of course—” Saladin begins, as if it’s anything they would consider.

“No.” Osiris’ tone is flat, steely and he looks away from Saladin to focus on Crow. “Crow was not incorrect. His fault lies in arguing with you on a public channel. The Vanguard must provide a united front in public, for the public. It is behind doors that these matters are settled.” 

“At your leisure,” Saladin gives a bow that’s just shy of being respectful; Crow’s done the same many times before. It is uniquely frustrating to watch and Crow gives himself a moment to feel a little smug about how frustrated Spider must have felt before he takes a few steps closer to Osiris. “It can be delivered in two occasions, if you need.” 

Regardless of what the punishment is, Crow decides he thoroughly dislikes Saladin and there’s no saving that. Glint buzzes an angry agreement in his little pocket of Light. _I take back everything nice I said about how pretty this temple was before we got here._ The temple they’re in is, objectively, gorgeous. The flames lick up the walls, the large stone wolves bracketing them on either side feel as if they could be as real as the ones milling around outside the temple if he looks at them out of the corner of his eyes. 

At their back, Saladin clears his throat. Osiris ignores him, expression unreadable under the armor and scarf, circling around Crow to stand between him and Saladin. 

An uneasy thrill curls in Crow’s stomach; it still hasn’t been specified what kind of punishment he’s supposed to be receiving from Osiris. Death is an easy one, but Osiris doesn’t seem regretful, just frustrated. Tense. 

Over Crow’s shoulder, to Saladin: “The insult was minimal, in the grand scheme of everything else we have to contend with.” 

Not quite the way Crow would’ve tried to argue for a lighter sentence but he supposes he appreciates the attempt. 

“That’s not for you to decide. Two hundred.” 

Osiris barks a sharp, mocking laugh and Crow’s heart beats rapidfire in his chest. A death was one thing. Multiple deaths, ones at the hands of Osiris — he can feel the flicker of Glint’s Light in dread at the thought. Is it a cost? A payment? 

“Fifty. Your aimless fury is better spent on our _enemies_ than our allies.” Osiris begins to strip a glove off with precise movements, addressing Crow and not Saladin over his shoulder. “Bend over. Hold the brazier.” 

Crow stares at the unlit brazier for a moment and then turns to the two of them, incredulous. “I think if you’re bartering about whatever you’re going to do to me, I should get to know _what it is_.” 

“It ought to be another sixty for the insolence,” Saladin crosses his arms, unimpressed and Crow does his best not to glower behind his mask as Saladin continues, “I suppose we cannot go too high. After all, the rules were predicated on punishment being able to be doled out in more than just flesh and blood.” 

“Fifty, and five for the insolence; this is not an auction.” Osiris’ gaze lands back on Crow as he peels the second glove off and hesitates a moment before tucking them into his belt as if he’d never questioned where to place them. “It is simple, if barbaric. The Iron Lords decided in their infinite wisdom that weapon blows were too effective and required too many of the Traveler’s resources once used on someone being punished. Hands and Light were used instead.” 

“I’m being _beaten._ ” 

Translated: The Iron Lords killed each other or others too much that it was a pain to resurrect, so they opted for something less permanent. They’re just talking about being Osiris striking him? That’s it? Osiris is supposed to _hit_ him that many times with his bare hands? Crow glances between the two of them incredulously. It couldn’t be that easy. Two hundred in a row would hurt Osiris’ hands more than Crow would ever be hurt. Glint could resurrect or heal anything that happened to him, but Osiris didn’t have that ability and losing the use of his hands for weeks healing wasn’t acceptable.

This is so much easier now that he understands. Momentary discomfort is enough to solve the problem and _that_ is a situation Crow can handle. 

There are two very separate reactions to his relief, both of them barely perceptible. Glint feeds him the data all the same; the shift of Saladin’s weight from one foot back to the other, the furious clench of Osiris’ jaw, hidden by the thick red scarf. 

He probably shouldn’t have sounded so relieved; Osiris seems like he’s not enjoying this enough for the both of them.

“Not beaten.” Osiris’ voice is tighter than Crow expects it to be, the hand that grasps his chin is sharp. “Fifty five strikes at my discretion. It is not torture though there are some who would encourage it to be.” 

“The former heretic, attempting judgment _here_ of all places.” Saladin scoffs behind them and Osiris’ fingers tighten at Crow’s jaw. “Advisor does not equal Iron Lord.” 

“Osiris,” Crow whispers as Saladin’s footsteps begin to circle around the room, lighting the lamps while the centerpiece is unable to be used. It’s a steady, slow thing, five heavy bootfalls, the snick as a wick lights, then five more steps until the next. Osiris’ fingers gentle one after the other as if it has to be a deliberate action to release after Crow says his name again. “It’s _fine_. Glint will heal anything. The sooner we start the sooner it’s done.” 

The newly lit flames gleam against Osiris’ helmet as he takes it off and sets it aside gently scarf nestled on top. Saladin circles slowly, just far enough Osiris has to raise his voice to be heard. “We accept.” 

Osiris’ hand slides under his hood, curves against the back of his neck, thumb sliding over the freshly shaved undercut Saint had helped with the other night and then withdraws. It’s the tiniest thing but Crow’s stomach flares with heat, hands gripping the metal tight enough bits of ash and metal flake off against his gloves. The mask and hood feel frustratingly heavy and hot even without the braziers lit, Osiris’ bare hands hotter still.

Crow bends and curves hands around the ancient metal testingly, gloves blocking the rub of most of the grit. There are a lot of things to be frustrated about right now but top among them is how little he knows. He has bits and pieces of conversations, tiny bits of historical context, videos, photos, but they miss a great deal of nuance. The knowledge he has so far is enough to wield as a blade defensively if he needs to, but no more than that. Misjudging with Osiris and landing it too deeply without understanding its length had been a mistake he wouldn’t repeat. Besides. It doesn’t take years of historical information, just a few weeks of varied interaction is enough to make Crow certain this wasn’t accidental; he would even go so far as to say this was orchestrated. Saladin waited for a moment, a mistake he could turn into justification to punish Osiris. 

Whatever this is, it’s beyond whatever slight Crow had caused. It’s posturing the same as they do on comms, arguing without being clear about what or why. It isn’t his fault, exactly, but he can help fix it. 

“I can,” Saladin says as if he is offering a great kindness, after a moment of Osiris’ silence, “If you do not have the stomach or the strength.” 

Osiris’ spine straightens impossibly, hand settling low at the small of Crow’s back while Crow begins working on his belts, pants dropping to his ankles. “I have it well in hand. Crow. Count.” 

**Author's Note:**

> if i can polish up the rest there's like 1.5k of osiris spanking crow but listen figuring out a serious narrative for "saladin watches osiris spank crow thinly justified by ancient iron lord rules" was already a stretch here without figuring out how everything and everyone else fits in. i just wanted saladin pettily assigning a physically shitty task to osiris (200+ strikes against crow because he knew he wouldn't actually beat him/shoot him/do anything awful to him) and crow being like oh wait this?? don't worry i am a professional at getting my ass kicked. :)
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
